


Speak My Language

by NeverwinterThistle



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Reunion barfight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverwinterThistle/pseuds/NeverwinterThistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's day wouldn't be complete without an obligatory reunion bar fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak My Language

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kinkmeme a while ago; it seemed like an appropriate time to post this.

There's no better way to spend shore leave than a bar fight. It doesn't matter that she's wasted, won't remember _shit_ in the morning, or that she didn't throw the first punch. Jack doesn't even mind that she's not fighting solo, for once; alone is great, but alone plus Zaeed isn't a burden. He's never been a burden, not like some of Shepard's other loyal bitches. She's pretty sure that the day he _becomes_ a burden, he'll go off somewhere untraceable and quietly shoot himself to spare them all the embarrassment. But that day won't ever happen. Zaeed Massani was born to go out in style, and if she's lucky, she might even be there to see it.

It's just typical that they ended up like this, fighting a pack of inebriated batarians in Purgatory unarmed. Just fucking typical. They save the universe in a crazy suicide mission, and then go their separate ways with barely a goodbye-  
Though "See ya 'round, crazy bitch", and the wink that came with it, has gone down in her memories as 'that time Jack definitely didn't almost cry to see someone go, because she's not a pussy like Liara'.

They haven't kept in touch, and she hasn't asked around to see what he's been up to. If Shepard mentioned him on the shuttle leaving the Grissom Academy, it wasn't because Jack asked first. And if she listened to every word, and toasted the wily bastard in her cabin later on, it's just respect for a man too damn stubborn to die.

She smiles when he pulls up the bar stool next to her, but only a little.

"Been a while, crazy girl; lemme buy you a drink, for old times."  
"Who are you, and what the _fuck_ have you done with Zaeed, huh?" Jack puts up a token protest, in the name of self-respect and feminism and shit, but not enough so he'll think she's actually refusing. Zaeed's not _old_ old, but he's wise in the important areas, and it translates into an awe-inspiring knowledge of alcohol, better than hers by far. She taps the edge of her glass against his and drinks to that wisdom. The blue-green liquid is something she'd have avoided on instinct, but it goes down smoothly, and leaves her warm where it counts.

Yeah. That's real wisdom, alright.

"So what's this 'old times' bullshit you mentioned? Going senile on me, old man?"  
The scowl he shoots her is one she hasn't forgotten, even after six months without contact. He fakes it for Jack because it makes her laugh; she's had older men in her time. And younger too, none who could keep up with her in battle like Zaeed. And none who would play fight like this, pretending to get mad at her attitude, throwing wild threats her way, and having epic shouting matches with her in the Normandy's mess just to piss off Miranda. Then they'd steal some of Gardner's cooking sherry and sit looking out at the stars, and rating each other's insults. How many guys do cute stuff like that? Zaeed's a dying breed of man, and it's a shame for everyone.

"Talk about senile. Shepard says you're a goddamn teacher now; reckons they've got you _minding your language_. You gone soft on me, Jack?"  
"Hey, don't you knock my biotic babies. They're awesome, and you're a cocksucking motherfucker, whose grandma turned tricks for elcor." He snorts into his drink, not even dignifying that with a proper laugh. He's right, it's pathetic. She might be a little out of practice. 

And maybe a little loud. On Zaeed's other side, a shifty-looking batarian turns her way.  
"The hell did you just say to me, whore?" And then Zaeed, with his old fashioned ideas about chivalry, _haha_ , has to go and break the alien's arm for her, on principle.  
"That aint no way to talk to a lady, buddy."  
He's not flashy about it or anything; it's probably the most business-like attack she's ever seen.  
Zaeed being business-like is one her stranger kinks. But that's totally not why she encourages the ensuing bar fight with the batarian's friends.

The rush of fighting next to him hasn't changed. It's like having a brick wall by her side, except the wall throws face-breaking punches and keeps up a running commentary on how shit their opponents are.  
"The quality of batarians these days is goddamn pathetic. I remember this one time, on Omega, me and my squad went up against this pirate gang-" he dodges a wild swing, landing a neat chop to the back of his opponent's neck. And Jack's a little busy with her own guys, so she misses most of the story. Shame, that; Zaeed's stories are the _best_. She hears snatches of it now and then, and maybe she'll remember to ask for a retell when things quieten down, because this one sounds extra bloody.

"-so we split up, tried to flank the bastards. But see, they knew we was coming, so when we rounded the corner-"  
"-and this one massive batarian comes at me with a shotgun, roaring. Think I was supposed to be intimidated or somethin', but I wasn't having none of that-"  
"-Jessie was extra bloodthirsty that day, you should've seen her kneecap this one guy-"  
"-and then Wilson got so scared he shat himself. Never woulda let him hear the end of it, except then he got shot and died. Helluva shame, that, kid had potential-"

They win easily; there was never any chance they wouldn't, even with Zaeed swaying slightly and Jack giggling at random intervals, because blood and screaming is hilarious when it's not hers. The batarians either run for it, or get dragged away by Aria's people. The guards don't actually look annoyed. This kind of thing probably happens all the time.

Jack punches the air, whooping, and turns to her partner in crime.  
"You're hot when you fight; we should definitely have victory sex now." She's loud, drunk and happy, and nobody's looking at them anyway. Amazing, that a fight can break out in the middle of Purgatory, and all the normal folks just keep dancing.  
Zaeed looks at her like he's not sure if she's serious or not. 

"I mean it! I am going to climb you like a _tree_." She prods him in the chest for emphasis, and nearly falls over. Zaeed wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from face planting on the sticky floor, as if he's any more sober than she is.

"You're pissed, crazy girl," he tells her, but his grin says if she's keen, he's not adverse to a bit of reunion nookie. Jack grabs his arm and starts dragging him to the exit. Maybe it's the drink, or the lights, or the adrenaline, but she's laughing her head off and life looks great right now, Reapers and all. Maybe it's the way Zaeed puts up a token resistance, slurring something about his honour and _reputation_ , pretending to give in only when she promises she'll still respect him in the morning. It's the funniest thing she's heard in ages, and Jack kind of hopes she remembers it when she sobers up. She'd like to tease Zaeed about it in the middle of a battle, to hear him snigger while everyone else clams up with embarrassment.

The sex itself is fairly average, but they're both too drunk to care. And anyway, Jack's a firm believer in improving with practice. They should have done this ages ago, back on the Normandy. Miranda's desk would have been pretty uncomfortable, but so worth the effort. As it is, the bed in Jack's room is too small, and it takes too long to get clothes off, and she doesn't give a fuck in the slightest. It's not important, not like trust. Jack can't remember the last time she slept with someone she trusted. Maybe never. So the sex isn't great, but at the same time, it is, because this guy just bought her a drink and started a bar fight for her honour, and didn't even ask if she had his back. He just knew. 

The trust is there, and the sex will improve. She's not letting this one vanish again. Her students could always use some extra training in Badass from one of the best.

The Reapers are coming. Jack would like to meet them head on, with a smile on her face and an ageing mercenary by her side. He might fix up Jessie for the occasion, take her out for a last stroll. He'd die by her side, and do it with a smile; she likes the idea. Sad words for dying people are a waste; Zaeed would go out with satisfying expletive. 

And anyway, Garrus says there's a bar in the next life, stocked to bursting and just waiting for them to stroll in. Resting her head on Zaeed's chest and giving him back the cigarette she stole, she tells him this. He's silent for a moment, staring at the cracked white ceiling. Then the old grin is back; bloodlust and enthusiasm, just the way she likes it.

"Sounds like somethin' I can live with. Though it might get a little crazy at the counter, what with the Reapers and all," he tugs on her hair gently with his free hand. It's almost affectionate; he keeps doing that, and she decides that maybe she won't shave it off like she was planning. "Tell you what, Jack. I'll save you a seat on my lap. Sound good?"  
Jack punches him, and steals his cigarette again. It's easier than trying to find something smart to say, and if she opens her mouth she knows she'll just fuck this up.  
Because, yeah. That sounds good. 

She could do that.


End file.
